


Home

by rachlovesligers



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-02-27 08:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18735034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachlovesligers/pseuds/rachlovesligers
Summary: After returning the infinity stones, Steve decides to go home.





	1. Chapter 1

Steve realised his hand was shaking as he raised it to touch the quantum realm device. All the stones had been returned to their place in time, Steve’s job was done, he could go home.

 

_Home._

 

The word jarred in his mind, jogging an old memory.

 

_The war’s over Steve, we can go home. Imagine it._

 

And he had imagined it. In his dreams, in quiet moments, in the exhaustion after battle, he’d imagined a thousand versions of going home to Peggy, his home. But now that home was within his grasp.

 

Bucky had known exactly what Steve’s plan was, probably from the second Steve had volunteered himself for the job of returning the stones. But he hadn’t tried to talk him out of it, which had been reassuring.

 

Steve was glad Bucky and Sam had each other. Although they loved to hate each other, he knew they shared a deep bond. It was comforting to know he wasn’t leaving either of them alone.

 

He forced his shaking hand to key in the date. 01.03.1947

 

He’d read in an old file that Peggy had been living in Brooklyn that year, working for the SSR before SHIELD had been formed. It would be risky to go any earlier, without a definite idea of where she was. He knew she’d moved around a lot after the war had ended, cleaning up Hydra bases across Europe. Though a lot of the details were still classified, Steve had connected the dots.

 

He smiled to himself, remembering the accounts of Peggy taking his place to lead the Commandos after his plane went down. _God_ , he missed her.

 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked at the device. It was now or never.

 

* * *

 

There was no answer to Steve’s knock.

 

He tried again, although he didn’t know what he expected to happen. He searched the space around her door for a spare key, but found nothing.

 

There was nothing to do but wait.

 

He kept his head down as Peggy’s neighbours walked by, not meeting their questioning looks. When an elderly woman asked him if he’d been locked out, he shook his head, and declined her offer of tea.

 

“I’m waiting for a friend,” he explained. He didn’t think she bought it, but she left him alone.

 

Eventually he sunk down, sitting on the floor opposite Peggy’s door. He regretting not having the foresight to bring a book. He might even have been able to get away with bringing his e-reader, and the thousands of books it held, as long as he was careful with it and made sure no one else caught a glimpse. He cursed himself for not thinking of it earlier.

 

As Steve’s mind wandered, he missed the footsteps approaching, and the sound of keys hitting the floor startled him. He jumped to his feet and came face to face with Peggy.

 

“Oh!” She exclaimed, hand still held out, as though the keys would jump back into her palm as soon as they realised their mistake.

 

“It’s finally happened, I’ve really gone mad.” Peggy shook her head and reached up to touch her temple.

 

“You’re bleeding.” For the first time Steve noticed the cut on her forehead, not particularly deep, but there was some bruising around it.

 

“Hazard of the job,” she explained, “and now I’m hallucinating. Howard will have a field day when he hears about this.”

 

Steve was dumbstruck. He hadn’t thought to prepare anything, any explanation, any proof that he was real. He just stared at her, taking everything in. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her hair curled around her face just the way he remembered, her lips painted her signature red.

 

Peggy shifted on her feet impatiently, her eyes narrowing.

 

He had a spark of inspiration, and bent down to pick up her keys.

 

“As far as I’m aware, hallucinations can’t move objects.” He placed the keys in her outstretched hand, feeling the full force of her gaze on him. His hand lingered over hers for a moment before he pulled away, revelling in the skin to skin contact he ached for.

 

When he met her eyes again, he realised she was blinking back tears. He took a deep breath and waited for her response.

 

“I knew Howard was looking, but he never mentioned, never said...” her bottom lip shook and Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

 

Peggy was shaking as he held her, but her arms slid around his waist, holding him tight. Steve felt like a faucet had been opened, like all the longing that had built up inside him over the last twelve years was finally being released.

 

He pressed his face to her hair, breathing in the smell of her. She still wore the same perfume, it smelled like roses, he thought, mixed with something else. The faint smell of cigarette smoke brought him back to the smoky offices he used to work in, and the image of Peggy at her desk, looking at him expectantly as she held an unlit cigarette between her fingers. He’d started carrying a lighter just for the excuse to cup his hand around hers when he lit her up.

 

It was overwhelming, in the best possible way. He was here, and there was still so much to process, but he had Peggy in his arms and that was all that really mattered. She tipped her head back and looked up at him.

 

“Oh, my darling,” she murmured, and his heart leapt at the endearment. It wasn’t until she reached up to wipe at his cheeks that he realised he was crying.

 

He cleared his throat, but her hand still lingered on his cheek.

 

“It wasn’t Howard who found me. It’s… complicated. Maybe we should...” he nodded to her door.

 

* * *

 

Peggy’s apartment was small, and very well kept. It wasn’t overly cluttered, but the ornaments that littered the space were so _Peggy._ Steve smiled to himself as he took it all in, the teapot with its knitted tea cosy, the framed photo of her brother, the crimson nail polish left on the kitchen table, the nylons hanging out to dry.

 

He watched Peggy as she removed her handgun from her purse and stashed it away in a kitchen drawer, then motioned for him to sit.

 

“I expect you’re hungry, can I make you something to eat?”

 

“What about your head?”

 

She looked puzzled. “My… oh!”

 

Remembering her injury, she left the room, giving Steve more time to take in his surroundings. When Peggy returned the cut on her head was clean, although the bruise was darkening.

 

“Are you gonna tell me what happened?” He asked as he took a seat at her kitchen table.

 

“That’s classified,” she retorted. “Tea?”

 

“I have clearance.” He watched her as she filled the kettle and placed it on the stove.

 

“Actually, I don’t think you do, since technically you’re dead.” Her voice broke on the last word and it tore at Steve’s heart.

 

He swallowed hard as he watched her set out the cups and saucers, her hands shaking as she did. He stood, drawn to her, and covered her hand with his.

 

_“ Peggy .”_

 

She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep, steadying breath, and then turned to face him.

 

“Tell me everything,” she pleaded.

 

* * *

 

Steve’s explanation wasn’t short. He started from the beginning, the battle of New York, Ultron, Thanos, jumping through time, returning the infinity stones. When he told her about Bucky, she reached for his hand and held it tight.

 

He thought maybe he should hold some things back, but talking to Peggy was a release. For so long he’d ached for her direction and reassurance, or even just the sight of her cheeks dimpling when he told her about returning seventy year overdue library books. With Peggy sitting right in front of him, he found he didn’t want to hold back.

 

Peggy caught him up too, explaining what she’d done in the time he’d missed. He already knew she worked at the SSR, and was familiar with her achievements – he knew everything that had been available for him to read in old files – but there were some things he didn’t know.

 

“I got kicked out of my last place,” she explained. “My landlady wasn’t too pleased with the way my colleagues paraded me through the lobby when they arrested me.”

 

_“ Arrested? ”_

 

She waved him off. “After a stint at Howard’s, I decided to settle in Brooklyn. There was something about it that drew me here.”

 

She didn’t offer anymore explanation than that.

 

He asked again about the cut on her head, and this time she indulged him, explaining that she’d taken an assignment meant for three to five agents, alone. She’d succeeded, but not without a few minor injuries.

 

Steve filled Peggy in on almost everything, but he was careful not to mention the details he knew about her life.

 

When he got to the part about Hydra infiltrating SHIELD, Peggy stood up, reached for a bottle of whiskey, and poured it into their empty teacups.

 

“I need something stronger,” she explained.

 

Steve talked until he’d explained how he came to be sitting in her kitchen. When he was done, silence filled the space between them. He finished the last of his whiskey and took a deep breath.

 

“You’ve been through so much.” Peggy looked pained. “It must’ve been terribly lonely. I’m glad you found a family, of sorts.”

 

Tears pricked at his eyes as he thought of Nat, her loss was still so fresh. Peggy squeezed his hand, but he ached for more.

 

She waited for him to regain composure before she spoke again.

 

“Are you here to stay?”

 

He nodded.

 

“What brought you to this point in time, specifically?” She asked.

 

“You.”

 

Peggy blinked at him. She looked taken aback, and he realised that the Steve she was used to would never be so forward.

 

She didn’t reply, so he figured he might as well spell it out, he was done wasting time.

 

“I came back to be with you. I want a relationship with you, Peggy, if that’s something you’re still interested in?”

 

“Of course I’m still interested, I –” she choked back a sob and Steve reached for her.

 

He wrapped his hand around hers as she composed herself.

 

When she finally looked up and met his gaze, she spoke fiercely. “I never stopped loving you, Steve.”

 

That was all the confirmation he needed to pull her into his lap.

 

* * *

 

They kissed for a long time, cataloging each other, figuring out how they fit together. Their last kiss had been so chaste, Steve hadn’t had time to savour the feel of Peggy’s soft lips, working his open, teasing his tongue with hers. He knew he was making noises, quiet sighs to match Peggy’s, and he understood why their last kiss had been so reserved, with Philips sat inches away from them.

 

Peggy dragged Steve’s bottom lip through her teeth and he groaned, loudly. He couldn’t find it in him to feel embarrassed. His hands roamed, one wrapped around her waist, feeling the curves he’d dreamed about, and then settled on her hip. His other hand tangled in her hair. He liked the way she shivered against him when he massaged her scalp, so he did it again.

 

When Peggy’s lips finally left his, she laughed. It was a beautiful sound that made joy bubble up inside Steve’s chest. His eyes blinked open to see what had made her so happy, but she was grinning at him.

 

His mind caught up and he realised that he was the source of her amusement. He must’ve looked a sight, eyes closed, lipstick smudged across his open lips, a dreamy look on his face. He sure felt like he was in a dream.

 

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured.

 

“I love you,” he blurted out, and Peggy laughed again, eyes wrinkling and dimples bracketing her smile. He vowed to make sure she laughed like that everyday.

 

“What’s so funny?” He asked, reaching up to wipe away the smudged lipstick around her mouth.

 

“You look lovesick.”

 

* * *

 

Steve helped Peggy put together supper for the two of them. Her kitchen was bare – she explained that she mostly ate at a diner near work – but they managed to scrape together a meal.

 

It wasn’t anything spectacular. He realised he was going to have to get his act together and learn how to cook now that he didn’t have access to a microwave and his drawer full of takeout menus. There was no way he was going back to boiling everything.

 

When everything was cleared away, Steve turned the radio on. He fiddled with the dials, flicking through stations until a crooning lovesong came on. He knew it was corny as hell, but he didn’t care.

 

When he looked up, Peggy was watching him.

 

“I’d like to collect that dance I was promised.”

 

She smiled indulgently and walked into the circle of his arms.

 

Their first dance was slow and sweet, Steve pressed his cheek against Peggy’s forehead and closed his eyes. She was so soft and warm. As they swayed, Steve noticed the lyrics – they seemed painfully fitting.

 

_You'll never know how many dreams I've dreamed about you, or just how empty they all seemed without you._

 

He turned his head, pulling back just enough to look at Peggy. She blinked back tears and smiled back at him.

 

_So kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again, it's been a long, long time._

 

* * *

 

They danced for a long time.

 

The radio still crooned as their kisses deepened. At some point Peggy had untucked Steve’s shirt, and her hands roamed up his back and down his sides, fingernails scraping just enough to make him shiver.

 

She pulled back just enough to really look at him, and her voice was husky when she spoke.

 

“Take me to bed, Steve.”

 

He didn’t need to be told twice.

 

She pulled him to her bed and had him out of his shirt in record time. Steve returned the favour, but he took his time, covering each piece of exposed skin with kisses.

 

There were a lot of layers to remove – he’d forgotten how many undergarments people used to wear – but he savoured it, enjoying the noises Peggy made as he ran his fingers over her skin. She was even more beautiful than he’d dared imagine.

 

At some point Peggy finished undressing him too, and then he held her, her soft skin pressed against him. His entire body was buzzing with anticipation.

 

She rolled him into his back, and he honest-to-God whined when she pulled away. He heard her laugh as something rustled in her hand, and he realised what she’d reached for. He thought maybe he should offer to put the condom in himself, but Peggy slapped his hand away when he reached down. She seemed just as buzzed as he was.

 

“Ready?” Her voice was low as she looked at him, waiting for his confirmation.

 

Steve nodded and followed her lead. He couldn’t string a sentence together, but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he was ready for this.

 

They moved together awkwardly at first, but she guided him until they picked up a rhythm. The closeness to Peggy was intoxicating, everywhere their skin touched felt electric.

 

He came embarrassingly fast, shaking in Peggy’s arms as she stroked his hair back from his forehead.

 

“Sorry,” he said, breathless, but Peggy shushed him.

 

He discarded the condom then rolled Peggy onto her back and made his intentions clear, kissing his way down her stomach.

 

Steve had no experience in this area, but luckily Peggy was very vocal. He took cues from her groans, using his tongue and fingers to figure out what would make her shiver.

 

He made sure she came, twice, before she tugged on his shoulder, pulling him back up her body.

 

When they made love again, Steve found he could hold out longer. He knew she needed more, so his fingers worked her over while they moved together languidly. There was no rush anymore, they had time.

 

* * *

 

As the night wore on they dozed, talked, made love. Steve knew there was still a lot to figure out, but right now it didn’t matter. He was finally home.


	2. 1949

Peggy’s thigh was still throbbing. She could feel the warm trickle of blood down her leg, ruining her nylons – not that the bullet that had grazed her leg hadn’t already destroyed them.

 

She’d refused Mr Jarvis’s offer to stitch her up, though that hadn’t stopped him from giving her a lecture about the futility of going it alone as he drove her home. He reminded her she had a child to think of now.

 

She understood his point, she might have avoided the dramatic car chase and resulting bullet wound had she called for backup, but there were few people she worked with who she felt she could truly depend on.

 

Peggy quietly pushed the front door shut and slipped out of her shoes and coat. She could hear Steve in the kitchen, humming in time to the radio. Maggie was babbling.

 

Leaning against the kitchen doorway, she took in the scene in front of her. Steve was chopping vegetables and throwing them into a pot. Despite his complete lack of experience in the kitchen he’d stubbornly taught himself the basics.

 

He had dinner on the table for Peggy most nights when she returned from work, and the cooking disasters were thankfully becoming few and far between. It had been months since they’d had to scrap a meal and head to the diner - a frequent occurrence when he’d first started learning.

 

Maggie squealed, opening and closing her tiny fists as she watched Steve. Their daughter loved to eat, she was always reaching for whatever food they had on the table – if there were any doubts about her parentage, that alone would quash them. When Steve had finished dumping vegetables in the pot he bopped her nose and she screeched, revealing his full attention, practically wriggling out of her seat.

 

After a moment Steve turned to face Peggy, leaving his hand out for Maggie to grab hold of.

 

“Dinner will be a little late, we got held up at the park.”

 

Peggy smiled indulgently. “Not to worry, I need your assistance before we sit down to eat.”

 

Steve raised his eyebrow while Maggie slobbered over his hand.

 

Peggy pulled her skirt up slowly, gradually exposing her thigh, and for a second she saw the glint in Steve’s eye. Until he caught sight of the blood.

 

He frowned.

 

“Is that a–”

 

“Bullet wound? Yes.” She kept her tone light, ignoring how strangled Steve’s voice sounded.

 

“Have you got something against hospitals?”

 

“That’s rich.”

 

Steve’s frown deepened.

 

“Did you at least have the SSR medics check you over?”

 

She hesitated. “This wasn’t, technically, an SSR sanctioned mission.”

 

Steve took a deep breath.

 

“Besides, you do it  _ so  _ much better,” she added airily.

 

“I’m lousy at stitches.”

 

“You did a fine job in Azzano, there’s barely a scar,” she replied, referring to the wound he’d stitched up when she’d fought off a knife attack in 1943.

 

He sighed, seeming resigned, and headed for the supplies in the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

Settled on the couch, with Maggie in her arms and her leg propped up on the footrest, Peggy studiously avoided Steve’s gaze.

 

Her daughter was still babbling, excited to see her mother after a long day. Peggy nodded and hummed in response, encouraging her to talk. She stroked back Maggie’s tuft of soft, dark hair. She was still too young to really look like either of them, but Peggy liked to think there was a lot of Steve in her determined features. She certainly had his beautiful eyes and thick lashes.

 

Steve was quiet as he concentrated on disinfecting the wound and stitching her up, and as she watched a strand of hair flop to his forehead, she thought about how he really didn’t give himself enough credit for his sewing abilities.

 

“Can I ask what happened?” He said cautiously.

 

“You can certainly ask.”

 

He looked up at her, and from his weary expression she realised he wasn’t in the mood for teasing. It was times like this, when the lines on his face were deepened and his expression tired, that the twelve years he’d lived without her really showed.

 

Peggy spoke softly when she replied. “There’s a target the SSR won’t consider because they don’t believe them to be a threat. All the evidence points to this person, but my colleagues won’t listen. So I tracked the target down and confirmed my suspicions. I would’ve brought them in if they hadn’t had backup and a getaway car. They clipped me when I was on the roof of the car in the resulting chase.”

 

“This target, they’re a woman?” Ever intuitive, Steve cottoned on instantly.

 

She simply nodded.

 

“Why didn’t you call for backup when things got dicey?”

 

“I called for Jarvis.”

 

Steve looked at her seriously. “Jarvis is great, but he’s not a trained agent.”

 

Peggy blinked quickly and focused on her daughter on her arms. She’d made a breakthrough with the Ivchenko case, and although it had boosted her confidence and gained her an ounce of respect from most of her colleagues, she was still miles from where she wanted to be.

 

Thompson was running the New York branch, Daniel the Los Angeles branch, and although Peggy had been allowed to lead a few cases, she was still asked to serve coffee and file reports far more often than any man in the office.

 

“Jarvis will help me out of a tight spot without putting me down, or calling it in and taking the credit.”

 

She braced herself for a lecture on the importance of asking for help from the colleagues who looked down on her, on not killing herself to prove something to them. But, as ever, Steve surprised her.

 

“It will pay off, eventually.”

 

_ “What?” _

 

“Your hard work, taking all the shit they throw at you. It will pay off.”

 

Steve cleaned up and took their sleepy daughter from her arms, leaving Peggy in stunned silence. He’d been an open book when it came to his life, but he’d been extremely careful not to give away anything about hers. Despite her direct questions he hadn’t given an inch. Until now.

 

Steve was upstairs for a while, and she realised he must be bathing Maggie and putting her to bed. That was usually Peggy’s domain, but with her injury it probably wasn’t the best idea. Even sleepy, Maggie tended to splash water in every direction possible.

 

* * *

By the time Steve came back downstairs, Peggy had turned the radio on. He settled on the floor by her leg and placed his hand just below the bandage.

 

His frown hadn’t faltered.

 

Peggy had had some time to process his statement, but there was so much it implied, so many questions she couldn’t quite form the words to ask. Though she suspected if she did ask, he wouldn’t answer them.

 

She leaned forward to smooth the crease between his brows, and his eyelids fluttered closed.

 

“You’re upset.”

 

He was quiet for a moment, before his eyes blinked open.

 

“Not upset. Just not crazy about the idea of you narrowly missing a bullet.”

 

“What, that doesn’t do anything for you?” She gestured towards him in a way that made her meaning clear.

 

Steve’s insulted pout was terribly sincere, and utterly adorable.

 

“Usually the scrapes I get into have quite an… effect on you.” She raised her eyebrow, waiting for Steve to catch on. “The best sex we ever had was after I fought off seven armed men with my bare hands and a few blunt objects.”

 

Steve shook his head, trying, hopelessly, to hide the smile that was slowly spreading across his face.

 

“I don’t get off on you getting hurt, it’s not – I like–” he pushed his hair back from his face as he stumbled over his words. “It’s your strength, it’s…”

 

He huffed, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m going to finish up dinner.”

 

Peggy laughed as Steve left the room. His admission hadn’t been shocking, she already knew as much. But she did love to see him flustered. The confidence he’d gained in their years apart was terribly attractive – this Steve knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. But she still savoured the moments that reminded her of how he used to be – adorably flustered and sincere.

 

* * *

Steve brought Peggy’s dinner out on a tray and they ate in comfortable silence. She tried to get up when she was finished, she intended to wash up since Steve had cooked and cared for their daughter, but he wasn’t having it.

 

Steve gently pushed her back down in her seat and took the plate from her lap, muttering about her needing to rest. She refrained from pointing out that she’d continued the car chase for a good fifteen minutes with her injury, and then made her way home.

 

Peggy knew Steve liked to take care of her, and occasionally she liked to indulge him. This was one of those occasions.

 

She sank back down and sighed heavily. Steve wasn’t entirely wrong about her needing to rest, she did feel that she needed a good night’s sleep, but the adrenaline still coursing through her wasn’t likely to let that happen.

 

When Steve returned he stood in front of her for a moment, his eyes trailing over her in a way that made her feel like she was really being seen. At work she was so often looked at, without anyone actually _ seeing  _ her _.  _ But when Steve looked at her he read her moods, saw the frown she was trying to hide, saw how exhausted she really felt.

 

He leaned down ever so slowly and pressed his lips to hers. He didn’t move, waiting for her confirmation, until she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him deeply.

 

“Love me,” she murmured against his lips.

 

Steve trailed kisses down her neck, he unbuttoned her shirt so he could nip at her breasts. He moved lower, moving her clothes aside so he could kiss her.

 

He stopped when he got to her abdomen, it was softer and rounder after carrying their daughter, and littered with stretch marks. Steve ran his nose along her skin, then pulled back to look at her with reverence. He leant down to kiss the marks that had once been smooth skin, and Peggy had never felt so cherished.

 

With his cheek against her stomach, she could feel his quick breaths tickling her. She ran her fingers through his hair, and he turned his head to look up at her.

 

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured.

 

She nodded, and Steve gently pushed her skirt out of his way.

 

He managed to move her underwear aside without needing to remove her garter belt, and his tongue worked her over with expert skill. He’d had plenty of practice on her, after all.

 

He held her hips, careful of her injury as he brought her to peak after peak. She shivered against his lips, groaning his name as he brought her to the edge again and again. Each time she found her release brought her closer to the deep sleep she needed.

 

When she was finally spent, she felt Steve pull back. Her eyelids were heavy, but she could feel him watching her, could sense his pride and satisfaction.

 

As he reached for her, cradling her against his chest, she mumbled into his neck.

 

“What about you?”

 

He scooped her up and she was already drifting in his arms.

 

“There’s always tomorrow,” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I don’t really have a plan for this story. I just liked the idea of grouping all my post-Endgame ideas together, since I had so many of them after seeing it. It might read like a collection of prompts or one-shots, but I’m planning to have it all fit in the same timeline. Maybe I’ll even come up with a plot at some point, but who knows?


End file.
